


And That Is Who You Are

by Aloice



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Gen, POV Female Character, Romance, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloice/pseuds/Aloice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something of a chronology - fragments of Vriska's memory.</p><p>John/Vriska, bits of Tavros/Vriska and other things. A tribute for Vriska rewritten shortly after her death.</p><p>[TW] for Vriska-like language and mentions/descriptions of abuse, violence etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spidermom and the Spidergirl

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ask Not for Whom the 8ell Tolls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/212944) by [gossameryChronicler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossameryChronicler/pseuds/gossameryChronicler). 



You are a young troll, and you wish more than anything else in this fucked up universe that Spidermom would stop looking at you with those huge hungry eyes.

You know her. You know that she won’t be pacified, not ever, and you’ll have to give up sooner or later, but that won’t stop you from feeling particularly rebellious right now.

You sit down on the plank, wincing a little as the coldness of the material wraps itself around you and seeps into your bones. Moreover, it’s just plain unsettling to stare at her, at her huge mass of monstrosity and everything that she reminds you of.

Maybe the reason you are assigned to her is because of your notorious bad luck. It certainly isn’t a desirable thing, having a custodian who always acts as if you would be a nice side dish. You would say that she’s awesome, that she’s the best thing that has ever happened and she’s helping you gain all the levels, allllll of them, but you also know that you would be lying.

(For as long as you can remember, you’ve been stealing side glances at other trolls – even the trolls that are destined to die at your hands – and _marveling_ , marveling at how they just get off so _easy_. Messing up? A small STRIFE episode, that’s all. Some stupid trolls even get to _ride_ them, to _play_ with them, to _coo_ and to _call_ and to _summon_ … fuck, you’re feeling sorry for yourself again. Shame on you.)

You lie a lot, but if it can keep you going, you will do it. You want to live – _why is it me, why do I have to die, why can’t I get the same thing as everyone else_ – even if your life _hurts_. You fight even when you can’t take it anymore, even when your powers of manipulation run dry and your head is hurting like it’s splitting apart and you are just _tired_ and scared and helpless and you don’t want to do it anymore but no just _let me live_ just let me live JUST LET ME LIVE. Just… _give me a chance_.

She always crunches – sits? – there comfortably and watches you squirm, watches you as you fumble and try to keep yourself sane. You can’t make a mistake – one tiny slip in concentration and the ones you have labeled as “victims of the day” would be on you, all violence and rage, tearing you to threads before you would even get a chance to scream into the dark Alternian skies.

Seized by a fit of rage, you get up abruptly and advance menacingly on her, your knuckles white. She’s the source of all your problems. All your misery, all the days you spent drawing up strategies and inventing negotiation methods with those fickle marine trolls, all the lies you’ve had to tell and all the unpleasant memories you’ve had to experience when you first learned to get inside another troll’s head. She’s responsible for every single damned thing and you want to hurt her, to stick fire into her flesh and laugh as she burns, as she gradually fades from existence and as you gain your freedom, at long last –

She’s still looking at you like that. Same eyes. Same hunger. Same smug expression. Same lusus. Same Spidermom.

You drop to your knees and start to cry noisily; you promise her that you’ll be back later tonight because you know that despite everything, she’s the only one you’ve ever had. She’s your custodian – if you get rid of her, what would you have aside from a castle hive full of nothing and a neighbor who regularly throws robot parts across the chasm?

Oh yeah. You will have _death_.

You run up the stairs. You’re almost happy that they never seem to end, because you’re leaving light cerulean drops all over the place and you would have to get your composure right by the time you reach the top. No sane troll is going to fall for a girl who’s crying her eyes out.

_(They would, instead, chant “CULL HER” in unison._

_Giddy and greedy, all of them out for blood.)_

In your agitated state, you fall, injuring your legs because you’re just that clumsy.

You are such a disgrace.


	2. Mindfang, I wish to be you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journal. An ancestor. Some wishes.

You can’t stop reading that Journal.

Surely, you’ve already gained a lot from it. You’ve gained an Ancestor and a Guardian a thousand times better than Spidermom. She’s actually a _real troll_ , instead of an uncaring eating and killing machine. Through Mindfang, you’ve been able to imagine a world of thrilling warfare and endless seas. You’ve been able to live her awesome life.

As your left hand thirstily flips the pages over and over, your right is subconsciously reaching out; it finds what it has been looking for and fondly cradles the dice set, caressing the rocky surface and feeling the unpredictable but intense power below. It’s her legacy. Her gift to you. You _know_ , because that meteor was heading straight towards you and she’s as passionate a blueblood as you.

You wish you can meet her. She would surely regard you as her finest apprentice ever, because DUH YOU’RE BASICALLY HER, and then she’ll take you aboard her ship; you’d gasp in awe at all the treasures she has found and she would smile and teach you to navigate the seas while her kismesis continues to look on with envy. She would let you participate in the fieriest of wars and you would get the chance to stand on the top of the world, with the finest of fleets at your command.

It has gotten you thinking. You wonder, idly, that now you’ve chosen her path, whether or not your destiny would work out the same way hers had. Would you defeat such rampant enemies? Since you’ve already met the descendant of the Orphaner, would you meet the new slave girl and the General of an army of beasts? Would you love until you die at the hands of your matesprit? Would you live, and become as lonely as she was, with but the image of Pyralspite to obsess over?

You know for a fact, though, that you really don’t want to lose an arm and your vision 8fold. That would suck.

The FLARP manuals are lying haphazardly on the floor. They are sitting there patiently, waiting for you, counting down to the moment you embrace your destiny.

You’re the girl chosen by Spidermom. You are the descendant of Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, the legend who took down Neophyte Redglare without even moving an inch and won a fight with His Honorable Tyranny with only one arm and one eye. You are a blue blood, an aristocrat, the child who has fought all her life just to see another night.

It’s going to be a long fight. You will make sure that you’ll live a long life and eventually, if you’re lucky, you might even surpass Mindfang in the degree of awesomeness.

(You don’t know. You probably won’t be able to. You’ll have to try, though. Sweeps ago, you didn’t think you would survive Spidermom. Believe in yourself, Serket. Believe in yourself and the way you live. If you lose that belief, all would be lost.)

The wind howls, the gust nearly knocking you over as you scramble to keep your balance. It’s an eclipse night; the moons are going to cross each other and for a very brief but precious moment the darkness would almost be eternal. The trolls have a tradition for that type of thing…

That night, you wished upon the moons and the stars that you would live on.

You wished that you would follow Mindfang’s steps from millennia ago, reach your full potential and be the best that you could ever be.

You wished that you would be feared and worshipped, a goddess of destruction oblivious to sentient pain but full of divine, unfathomable glory.

You wished to be a ruthless killer.

You wished to become an everlasting legend of Alternia.

You saw a meteor in the sky, took it as a confirmation, and grinned. It was the first fanatic grin that ever graced your face.

(Sweeps later, you would hit yourself in the face [and hit yourself _hard_ ] because you forgot to wish to be happy.)


	3. Havoc to be wrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> normal!Vriska (I guess??)
> 
> some Vriska/Kanaya near the end. Some mentions of Eridan and Terezi.

You’re happy that most of the things you do don’t bother you anymore.

You’re also happy that you’re quite successful at what you do.

You wake up in the night knowing that there’s havoc to be wrought, trolls to kill, fleets to obliterate and lives to manipulate. You know the drill by heart: you know where to meet Eridan on the coastline and where to meet Terezi in the forest. You also know where the troll cities are, where the minds are the weakest, where the blood is the sweetest in the air and where it pulses through peasant veins nervously, waiting for Spidermom to spill.

The bluebloods tell you that you’re good, and you yell your thanks back. None of you are sincere, but that’s okay. You know it all now, and you will get back at them later. It’s but a normal day for the bluebloods.

Cold water. Cold _brine_. You pour the flask over your head, shuddering as the cold water makes contact with your scalp and your delicate horns. It’s not nice, but you know that it will keep you awake. You have your roots in the sea, after all. It’s a piece of evidence for your superiority, your pass to the highest echelons of troll society. Your rich blue blood carries your hope for becoming a Marquise someday.

You grab your dice. You can’t roll shit, but the set is always good enough when it really matters. Running to a window, you jump out of it, shrieking in ecstasy as your rocket boots kick in and you’re flying through the air as if you own it.

“M1NDF4NG, SHUT 1T! W3 H4V3 WORK TO DO!”

You smirk. The rocket boots are good – fast and precise, having carried you to Pyrope’s dwelling within minutes. You can hear the quirk in her voice, hear her as she pretends to be justice and does her thing. If everyone else thinks that Terezi Pyrope is sane, you know otherwise: you know her tree is riddled with “executed” plushies. There’s a new one today.

(You will admit to yourself, though, that her popularity and confident self-righteousness are bugging you a little.)

“Nice outfit, Redglare. Ready to pass out a verdict?”

“Y3S, TH3 CR1M1N4LS SH4LL NOT 3SC4P3. 1 W1LL SL4P TH3M B4CK 4ND FORTH UNT1L 1 SM3LL BLOOD 4ND T34RS! H3H3H3H3.” And then she’s laughing maniacally and you sigh, although you’re laughing too, just for different reasons.

 “Team Scourge’s Operation is… oooooooon!!!!!!!!” You make a roll, just for luck; it gets three 8s and the trees in front of you fall like flies, and then she’s frowning somewhat disapprovingly at you, but you put the dice back into your pocket and smile madly at her, dragging her away into fantasy and adventure.

Passion and brains. The Scourge Sisters.

The night came and went: as usual, it was the epitome of awesome, and you reaped enough spoils to add a new layer to your treasure pile. In no time at all it was near sunrise and the two of you parted ways, agreeing that you must work together again sometime later in the week.

You lead the doomed trolls to Spidermom, passive and sometimes grinning insanely as they fall in her jaws. In your more sadistic moments, you’d turn off the psychic control in the last moment and hear them scream as they are torn apart; usually, though, you would just send them out like processed meat, having slaughtered them mentally before they even saw the monster that would devour them.

You collapse onto your recuperacoon, thinking maybe, just maybe, it’s time to rest, although adrenaline and greed are still flowing through your veins and your head hasn’t stopped swimming yet: during the long sweeps your psychic powers have grown stronger, and now it’s nearly always calling for another mind to control, another think pan to twist to your whim.

You’re still troll, though. Not the Empress. You have to slow down and stop _sometime_ , if only to boast of your greatness.

Oh hey look. A speech bubble. You know who it is, and although you’re annoyed by her constant meddling, today you’ll oblige her. You think. You have been working non-stop for a while, after all. She’s a romantic, like you, just of a different kind. You’ve wondered if she’s the descendant of the slave mentioned in your ancestor’s journal; if so, you hope Eridan won’t kill her in the future.

GA: Can I Read You A Story

… Oh hell no.

You consider your options. You feel like just employing your shield and kicking her away again – or you can just _ignore_ her – but for some reason you don’t want to. You just feel a little… resigned. Maybe you’ll let her meddle tonight; you’ll see how much of it you can tolerate.

AG: Fiiiiiiiine. ::::c

You sit back and fiddle with the dice as she read you stories. Elegant, subtle stories, not at all your type. You want the beats, dammit. You crave the most extreme of all worlds, the chance to see all and own all, not the opportunity to sit in a corner and sigh about a potential lover. Every time you see purple prose, you want to just turn the computer off. Where are the heat and the intensity? Where is true passion? Where the hell is even sincerity? What can logic do? What can poker faces do? Those people die in a corner all alone, having achieved absolutely nothing in life.

But you keep the computer on, and you last through five entire stories before she tells you to go to your recuperacoon because her room has lightened up to the point that her delicate china set is shining brightly.

Jeez, that girl needs to get some sleep. You tell her to get in cahoots with someone before tucking yourself in, already dreaming of new conquests and amazing campaigns.


	4. A Lost Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros/Vriska. How it starts and how it ends.

_The Summoner._ Tavros Nitram.

The words leave a bitter, nasty taste in your mouth.

You are alone in your hive on LOMAT, and you can still see the mess you made for him. The special stardust. The web. The neat pile of broken 8 balls. The evidence glares back at you, and it hurts. It hurts and it angers you at the same time.

You collapse onto the pile, your brand-new wings drooping with humiliation and the tornado of other feelings you’re trying to sort through. Your lips quiver, but your anger boils over and you tell yourself _no_. You’re not going to fucking cry over someone like him. He’s not worth it, and he has never been worth it.

You think about the journal and want to throw it into the seas surrounding your hive-island. _Mindfang, why didn’t you tell me that things wouldn’t work out the same? Why didn’t you know? Why didn’t you fucking leave that possibility open?_

_Why the fuck am I so fucking stupid?_

In a fit of rage, you kick the totem lathe out of your hive. It’s going to be a long way down, but you don’t care. Your room has enough weird and useless shit as it is.

 _Maybe you deserved it_ , a voice says in your head timidly. _Maybe it’s because you’ve been cruel to him all this time._

That voice was the dominant voice in your head for exactly a second.

_NO. FUCK THAT._

_IF I DESERVED IT, IT WOULD BE BECAUSE I DIDN’T GIVE UP TRYING. IT WOULD BE BECAUSE I KEPT ON HOPING, KEPT A DREAM ALIVE._

You feel like throwing something out of your window again. Kicking something out. Destroying something. You can now certainly beat a mountain of 8 balls to its foundations, shatter the material into a billion pieces until they look like the salt in your oceans.

A GODDESS WOULDN’T DO THAT. A GODDESS IS BETTER THAN THAT.

Closing your eyes (all eight of them - you should be excited beyond belief to get your vision 8fold back but at this point it is the least of your concerns), you try to breathe in and out deeply, synchronizing your breath to the beats of the waves outside. That’s your planet, your life, your mind, your dreams, everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re fucking _god tier_ now, the only troll ever to make it. You can live through this; there’s no reason for flipping the fuck out.

You’re just sad now, you guess.

Just. Sad.

No, you’re certainly still angry to some extent. The ratio of sadness to anger is still the same; it’s just that the quantity of both has decreased and you can now _think_.

You remember the first time you saw him, and how it had made you instantly blush both in excitement and fear. You knew it was him, the descendant of the Summoner you had waited so long to meet – who _else_ would have such long horns, the horns you dream about almost every single fucking day? – and you weren’t ready, this was your sole advantage over Mindfang, there were things you planned to say to him, things you had wanted to do, scenarios you wanted to create, backup plans for if he turned his numerous dangerous beasts on you and or rejected you the very first time –

“uHHHH,” he said, the expression on his face… one of… nervousness and fear? “hELLO, mY NAME IS, uHHH, eXCUSE ME FOR MY STUTTERING, tAVROS NITRAM.”

You gasped. The dice fell from your numb, suddenly cold fingers and you involuntarily retreated backwards, your pulse still beating fast, too fast but your heart rapidly sinking. _Surely, he doesn’t usually speak like this. He usually doesn’t look like this. This isn’t the way the Summoner acts, not at all…_

And then you realized that he didn’t have wings.

You hadn’t looked for them. Your gaze was on his face.

You panicked, losing your composure completely. You stared at him, at his stature, at the symbol on his shirt, at his hair, at the way he dressed, at where the two of you were, at everything. Your back hit the wall and down you went, your eyes still on him, your expression now turning into one of horror.

“wHOA, i’M SORRY,” he said, his expression concerned and guilty, and you cringed because again, _that’s not how you thought he would talk_. He extended a hand to try to help you up, but you rejected it, the fire in your eyes dimming, eventually turning into ice. You looked up at him with contempt, making sure that he knew that you regarded him as some sort of lowly contamination.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

You stalked away.

As soon as you thought he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore, you started to run. You ran until you were crying and you were fucking _mad_ and you were on the ground again and you were beating the earth with your fists and just _losing it_ and before long you had blood on your fingers and you face was one ugly mess and you were alone and you couldn’t stop sobbing and you were just falling apart in the most pathetic way possible –

Fuck Dreams. Fuck thinking you could actually turn your dreams into reality. In that one instant in life, you hated life, you hated the universe, you hated fate and you hated yourself for believing, for being naïve and being a romantic. You should have seen it coming; you should have known that he would be a fine specimen for culling, you should have known that you would never get the chance to one-up Mindfang or even just be _as lucky as she was_ , you should have known you should have known –

Fuck. Thinking about that memory is making you want to cry again. Disgusted with yourself, you fold your wings, ditch your god tier outfit and dig out another normal Scorpio T-shirt. There. You don’t want to remember what has happened.

Honestly, with Tavros, you _tried_. You were actually hopeful at first, convincing yourself that the only thing he needed was proper education. You would worry yourself to no end, thinking that it would be horrible for the highbloods to kill him when he still had potential to become better. You didn’t throw the worst at him straight away, and you would sit around doing nothing as he tried to fend you off. Talk about _effort_. Talk about _patience_. Talk about _despair_. Honestly, you’re surprised that your patience lasted that long.

And then _he_ came and turned your nightmare into hell.

If you despised Tavros for being unnaturally weak, you hated him for being unnaturally strong. He was the ultimate frustrator, the one who knew all your weak spots and someone you couldn’t defeat even if you threw your entire life behind it. He was timeless, always there to manipulate, always there to win. The one time you had gotten the upper hand, he had blown away your arm and your vision 8fold.

You hated him for exploiting the hatred in your heart, the despair, the sadness. He brought out the worst in you, and you could do nothing but stare at his stupid white text in fury as he looked on calmly and smugly, the image of correctness.

He wanted you to do his dirty work. He said you did it, not him. He said you wanted to do those horrible things anyway.

And he was right. He was always right.

You spew out all your hate, putting your despair into it, turning the bitterness meter to the max. You couldn’t help but laugh at him as he stood on the edge of that cliff, sweating, surrounded, all in all just so _hopeless_. What were you thinking? This was the exact type of person society could do without. That was the law, the morals, everything you’d been taught.

AG: Isn't that what you want, Tavros? To 8e like Pupa?  
AG: Of course you do! What 8oy wouldn't want to 8e like Pupa! So dashing and 8rave.  
AG: He is everything you are not!

(He didn’t know how true it was, but _you_ knew that your heart ached like heck when you spat out those words in cruelty and spite, your entire body shaking and your conscience saying _Vriska no_ but it was just too much and you couldn’t take it back, you had bottled it up for too long)

(Maybe he would finally realize his destiny, maybe he would finally grow wings now, maybe he would finally fly like Pupa Pan and you’d forgive him for everything and life would be good again and you’d be together just like you dreamed)

AG: For one thing, he can flyyyyyyyy.  
AG: Do you want to flyyyyyyyy, Tavros?

(You drawled the sound out, filling it with acidity and feeling elated as he stared at you as if he had never seen you before, his hands unsteady and his face terrified)

AG: Hahahaha, oh you like that idea, Pupa? Yes, you do. I can feel it in your simple, mallea8le 8rain.  
AG: You want to fly so 8ad!

(He was right, you did hate Tavros, you did have a sadistic side in you, you didn’t have any personal morals, you denied it with Spidermom, but this time it was real. You could hear him whispering in your head, his voice smooth and controlled, mocking you so hard you wanted to punch him in the face although you knew it wouldn’t hurt him at all. _Do it, Vriska._

 _End this._ )

AG: Fly, Pupa!!!!!!!!  
AG: Flyyyyyyyy!  
AG: Hahahahahahahaha!

(And then you were laughing maniacally, the anger and bitterness in you taking control completely as your lonely alter ego retreated into a corner and started crying its eyes out for just how far you had fallen. It was crying for him, for you, for this stupid universe and this stupid fate)

AG: Aaaaaaaahahahahahahahaha!  
AG: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!  
AG: Haaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaa!  
AG: Adios, Toreadum8ass.  
AG: :::;D

(You stood on the edge, your voice echoing and magnifying in the winds, looking down at him and his form as he fell and struck the ground, as he pathetically reached out for his communication device and started to reach futilely for help all over again. You laughed and laughed until you were out of air, your eyes wild with hate and your body giddy for even more destruction and torture. This troll was completely useless, stupid, nothing you should have gotten your heart broken over. He couldn’t do anything by himself, you couldn’t even imagine him leading a horde of beasts into war, much less cause an entire revolution!)

You had crippled him. You had enjoyed taunting him, but how stupid were you for not giving up even after that incident? You knew. You didn’t want to go through that again. You didn’t want to make yourself worse, didn’t want to get yourself tangled into bad webs. Didn’t want _him_ to be able to laugh at you again.

Terezi and Aradia, well, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen it coming. The whole thing with Aradia only means that _he_ got his way again. You didn’t want to kill her; you didn’t, although it was also true that there was a part of you that did.

You were not a saint – far from it – and that was enough for Mr White Text Guy. He didn’t care about you; couldn’t care less. You guess he just occasionally amuses himself with all the insults you used to throw at him. He knows that you can’t win, and he even once said blatantly that you’re a child he’s wasting his “talents” over.

If he ever loses his powers, you’re going to strangle him.

You pull yourself up and walk to the edge, looking down at LOMAT from a window. The scenery is beautiful: it is a perfect replica of the troll Caribbean you used to see in your dreams. There are bridges, secret entrances, rope shenanigans… it’s perfect. You would spend all your time here if not for the demands of the Game.

What have you lost? Where should you go now, as a God? You are definitely not going to go back to Tavros again. You will remember both that useless kiss and the pain of bleeding slowly to death for the rest of your existence and well, he probably will too (he better). The two of you are _done_ – you have nothing but scorn left for him now – and you feel revolted for having ever believed in him and those stories. Those are the ideas of an innocent child, a child prone to weakness and manipulation. You are no longer a child, and you will prove that. You will have to prove that, since no one seems to care about power and strength anymore.

No one cares about _you_ anymore, really. They just want your skills, your attacks… your alliance in this war against the Black King. They wouldn’t have mourned you if you had died for good.

A lump rises in your throat and you swallow, looking far out into the seas of LOMAT with a wistful look on your face. _Maybe I was wrong_ , you think. _Maybe what I truly want is happiness, not power. Maybe I just want to live, and then to be understood. Maybe I truly care about my friends. Is it too late to turn back, though? Can I turn back? Would ascending to godhood even mean anything? What’s the point of this game, anyway? Alternia as I know it is gone. Mindfang is dead, and Spidermom is a sprite I’m constantly running away from. What’s the point? Would I find redemption in the ultimate reward?_

You wish, now, that you have actually watched the troll Sailor Moon series. How did troll Sailor Galaxia die again? Or… did she live? What happened in the end? What lessons were learned, what memories forgotten?

You stand and gaze out for hours, lost in thought, ignoring all contact. It’s not very Serket-like – in fact, it’s probably the most un-Serket thing you’ve ever done – but you guess you need the moment for yourself.

You can’t fucking lose who you are this close to the end of all things.


	5. From One Session to Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John/Vriska, up to [S] JOHN. RISE UP.

The lab. You’ve heard Karkat rant about it once or twice in his legendarily infamous memos, but you never expected to really get _stuck_ here. Labstuck. Meteorstuck. Getting stuck _anywhere_ is against all the principles you live by, but getting stuck here is beyond shitty. Everything smells of boredom and metal; one sideways glance and you know all you’re going to find are grays, blacks and green flickering lights. (THANKS, ARADIA, FOR LANDING US SAFELY IN A PLACE THAT IS AS ROBOTIC AS YOUR BODY.) Your fellow trolls are not helping the mood, either; Gamzee’s scattering his trash on the floor in that amazingly useless stoned way of his and Karkat, typically a reliable source for profanity and scowling, is passed out cold on the floor. Well. Have fun seeing Prospit at last.

You settle between Eridan and Kanaya, deliberately avoiding all pitiful gestures the sea dweller is making in your direction. “Fussyfangs, you suuuuuuuure you don’t want to catch up?”

She throws you a sour glance. Bitter. Annoyed. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Fiiiiiiiine.” A little frustrated yourself, you scoot over a little to allow a good margin of space between the two of you. You can’t say you don’t miss all her meddling and bugging – honestly, you’ve made your best effort to make this obvious to her – but if she’s making this difficult, then it’s her problem, not yours. “Suit yourself, Kanaya.”

You hear something in the distance that immediately makes you draw a connection to Terezi Pyrope’s signature snicker. Dammit. First that ridiculous candy-blooded secret admirer moneyhoarder, now this. She’s not going to get away with it. Who was that douchebag? Dave? Well, the human session has more than one boy. Attracting the opposite sex has never been one of Marquise Mindfang’s weaknesses. Besides… why would you go for a red themed loser Knight when the alternative is a derpy godtier clad in intoxicating shades of Breath blue?

Feeling the need to do a thorough job, you do your basic research and review his life. Simple. Weird. No challenge at all. No ancestors here as far as you can tell, but he seems to have some type of strange obsession with the adult male human. Shenanigans are nonexistent. Stuff is insignificant and tedious.

You feel a fleeting sense of jealousy before you brush it away as if it has never existed. The kid’s life is as pathetic as Tavros’s, and he should be eternally grateful that you’re intervening to change all that. You’re going to make fabulous things happen to him, things he hasn’t even dreamed about, and with all your luck he’s going to drop to his knees and worship you as his goddess.

A little giddy already, you start to make a list in your head.

You’re going to be responsible for his godtier status. That should be a given, no questions asked.

You’re going to make him even stronger than you are, if he actually has a spine. If he doesn’t… well, you’re going to make his life miserable until he grows one. Yes, you’re not going to spend your precious time mulling over the possibility that he’s an exact replica of Tavros.

You’re going to force him to be the best human kid. Better than Dave. Better than the girls. If you’re going to have a hand in his fate, his path will lie above those of the others. He will be able to blast away all competition with a lazy flick of his hand, just like you’ve risen above the other trolls. You won’t let your work be in vain, and if you’re going to invest in him, you better know you’re going to be convinced in the end that he’s strong enough to be worthy of your attention.

It wouldn’t hurt to do a little bit more, really. Juuuuuuuust a little bit more to let Terezi really feeeeeeeel the sting of defeat. You’ll tie yourself into all the events of the session… make your light symbol the center of the storm.

You don’t remind yourself that another reason you want to do it is because you want to do a hard reset. Take all responsibility for the bad things to tie them into a knot before kicking that knot into cold hard oblivion. Mark the whole thing as convincingly _yours_. Show everyone that you’re the one who got rid of the demon. Show them that you’re worthy of their… well, show them that insults and wariness shouldn’t be the only things you’re greeted with. You sure are weird, wanting them to be afraid of you and accept you at the same time… You guess you’re just a little tired of having no one to talk to and constantly being referred to as a villain. (Dammit, you’re even wearing your normal troll T-shirt. You’re not flaunting your godhood in front of them. What more on Alternia could they possibly ask for? Do they really have to ask you to stop being yourself? Really? _Really?_ )

You decide to stop multithinking and just go on with your master plan.

AG: Joooooooo  
AG: oooooooo  
AG: oooooooo  
AG: oooooooo  
AG: oooooooo  
AG: oooooooo  
AG: oooooooo  
AG: oooooooohn!  
AG: W8ke up!!!!!!!!

You wait for him to respond, drumming your fingers as you watch him scramble to get his glasses working. Glasses. Oh yeah. That’s another plus. You wonder how many plus points he can rake in before things go mad and you’ll actually start to get personally fond of him. Nah. That’s never going to be a thing that’s even worth a second of consideration.  
He gets back to you, typing quirkless in a shade of blue. BOOOOOOOORING. Even worse than Kanaya’s. No drop of individuality there at all.

You go through the conversation quickly before he reveals that Terezi has killed him in a separate timeline. _Well shit._ If the Libra troll is really that fast, you better get your irons in the fire quickly and get the flames going. Maybe kill a Dave. He’s a time player though, so after ten seconds of contemplation you give up on the idea. That boy is going to get killed enough as it is. You have a decent amount of patience, patience enough for you to set up the event loops in the human session, but not nearly enough to keep track of a thousand different timelines.

EB: psyche!!!!!!!!!  
EB: oh damn, that was 9 !'s.  
EB: !!!!!!!1  
EB: shit!  
EB: never mind.

You can’t help but laugh. That was hopeless. The boy doesn’t even have his priorities right – without your help, he probably won’t even get anything done. Good. Up till now he hasn’t looked like a blubbering pansy. Ignorant, maybe, and definitely the member of a lesser species, but when you’re done with him, the before & after pictures will be glorious.

EB: haha, spiders are gross!   
AG: Fuck you!!!!!!!!

Well _fuck_ you did not see that coming. More reasons to draw out his inevitable death a little bit longer when you get to do it. Scowling, you jump back through time to leave him a malicious warning of his death before diving into the next pesterlog head first, planning to get him back.

EB: then i would venture to guess i am wasting time because you chose to pester me just now!   
AG: Dammit, John.  
AG: Stop sounding smarter than me. It is un8ecoming of someone so inferior.

There, you said it. You are a little frustrated with him now. Why can’t he just shut up and play along? It’s… strangely, a little endearing. Endearing, of course, like how some slaves could occasionally seem endearing to their masters. He’s not your equal. He’s just a pawn you’re using for your own purposes, and you’re going to rub that in his face.

AG: John, stop kissing that adult 8rown male human computer at once.

This is embarrassing. Does Terezi have to live through this, too? What would Dave do, pile up his lava planet with a thousand filial pails and draw a comic of it? Okay, this is probably John and all John. Gotta get all this filth out of his system immediately.

EB: if it weren't for you i would be playing this game already.   
AG: Okaaaaaaaay, shut up!  
AG: Fine. I will hold your hand every step of the way, since that's apparently how you want to do this.   
EB: but it isn't!   
AG: I said shut up!

He’s really making you flustered now. How the fuck did you allow yourself to get into this mess? He’s making some moves of his own, and they are not bad moves, either. You’ve forgotten to tape over his mouth. Or is it because you don’t want to tape it over since it’s – No, you’re sure it’s because you forgot.

EB: bossy bossy bossy bossy bossy bossy bossy bossy.  
EB: to the eighth power.  
EB: times eight infinities!!!   
AG: H8RRY 8P!!!!!!!!!   
EB: that was nine !'s.   
AG: Oops.

So that was how you legitly lost it to John Anderson.

You cover your mouth instinctively in shame, feeling heat creep up under your skin and coloring your cheeks burning blue. There’s no denying now; you are losing and losing rather quickly. _Fuck you, John. Fuck you forever._ It’s John 1 Vriska 0 and the world is absolutely shaking with mirth. You’re sure a thousand horrorterrors are laughing at you right now throughout the entirety of the Furthest Ring, and that is unacceptable. Has _anyone_ ever gotten under your skin like that? Anyone, _ever_ , so soon after meeting you? Shit is going down and you suppose you have to bring out your all in dealing with this strangely powerful human boy.

You allow your eyes to wander around for a bit to see if the other trolls have caught you red handed. Nope. Not yet, anyway. (That means they will never know.)

Determined not to lose by default, you continue talking anyway. Following your instructions, he makes himself an outfit nearly identical to yours and starts talking in 8s like you. Great. Some progress at least. Someone acknowledging your magnificent presence and influence without regarding you as immature or attention-seeking. Of course, everyone should do it, but for now… one person is better than no one, you guess. Now he just needs to get Jade in and maybe you can start working on the real business, a business he does not yet understand. The possibility of him not liking what you’re doing to him is beyond comprehension.

EB: that's dumb. i'm going to talk to you whenever i want!  
EB: well, i didn't know it was your name for sure until you just told me now.  
EB: so, haha.  
EB: heheh, i am not telling.  
EB: a true wise guy never reveals his tricks.

You’re pretty sure you’ve kicked the lab concrete three or four times by now. The force vibrates back through your frame and forces you to involuntarily clench your teeth as you watch him grin at his own words. The boy is infuriating, and worse, becoming capable. He has figured out your name, how to get on level ground with you and how to get you personally (basically, everything that matters). Next he’ll be ordering _you_ about. Wait, he already is.

It smells like independence, and while that stinks and makes you wrinkle your nose in distaste, it is refreshing. There, you’ve said it again. He’s making all those advances and you’re finding yourself admitting his strengths more and more often. That probably means you’re losing. _Again._ John 2, Vriska 1.

 

After Nick Cage, you give up trying to dominate everything. Not happening. John has proven himself to be extremely persuasive and extremely precise, and you are sorely reminded of that fact every time you look up a Nic Cage reference to alchemize.

 _One day I’ll get back at him_ , you make the promise to yourself half-hearteningly. _One day. One day…_

You begin finding yourself burying your mind in endless temporal arm-twisting to forget the boy and his wits. Maybe you’re now actively craving his company. Maybe. You’ll allow yourself a “maybe” now… it’s not as embarrassing as it is before. Or so you tell yourself.

AG: Maaaaaaaan.  
AG: Come oooooooon........

Yeah, it’s showing. He’s getting close though. Any moment now… any time he’ll prove you right. He’ll prove that he’s simultaneously sensitive and brave, prove that he’s far better than Tavros…

EB: i am not bitter! i just think your plan is dumb.  
EB: if he is as strong as karkat says, he will probably kill you!

That sets off a bomb inside you. He can’t say that. He out of all people shouldn’t say that. Okay, he doesn’t understand. You need to make him see that you can do it. Someone needs to believe that you can do it.

You take a deep breath and start to type.

AG: He never really appreci8ted how powerful I 8ecame. No8ody did! I am easily the strongest troll 8y far.  
AG: I am also extremely lucky! That is one of my powers, John. 8eing super lucky, and making my foes super UNlucky. ::::)

He doesn’t seem convinced. You allow yourself to stop fuming. _He just needs more time. A little bit more time._

He kind of has grown on you a little, if you are willing to give him so much credit.

AG: It's my turn now. Scratch that.  
AG: OUR turn.

You stand back and watch him pouch through the green fire like the real heroes of your dreams, happy at how even one fakey-fake pronoun has made you feel that a bond of some sort has started to form.

 

Intense, excruciatingly painful concentration. The smell of blood as it leaks out of your skin, the taste of it as it coats your tongue. Terezi Pyrope in your eyes and Tavros Nitram in your head. The patterns on the golden floors of Prospit, the lines converging, blurring, shifting out of focus because your face is dripping blood and you can’t think coherently.

You don’t remember much about the moments just before your godtiering, and you prefer not to think about those darkest hours of your life.

He walks through the village casually, not knowing his life is about to end. Of course, his will be a quick and painless death and immortality lies just around the corner, but you can’t help but tense up as you watch him walk briskly around the village, asking this salamander and that, his hair ruffling in the breeze. He smiles when he realizes where his quest bed is; you grimace. Seeing him rise up will be great, but seeing his blood is not going to feel as good as you’ve expected and fantasized about it to be. It’s going to hurt just a little. Juuuuuuuust a liiiiiiiitle bit. Nearly nothing. Asymptoting onto zero.

You guess jealousy is a part of it. You’re jealous that he has you as a mentor while you had to figure out everything on your own. It’s not just that, though; maybe it’s in his carefree attitude, in the way he still seems so pure-hearted and innocent. _May8e may8e may8e. You’ve allowed yourself way too many ambiguous may8es when it comes to John._

It takes him a while to climb, but by the time he gets to the top his eyes are filled with wonder. He approaches the bed, feels the rock and stares up at the glowing symbol before he sits down on the slab, his expression somewhat mystified.

_Okay, Vriska, stop staring. Start working. Help John realize his destiny as the best of them all._

You wonder why you need to reassure yourself at all. You are doing the right thing. Maybe the weight of your memories is getting to you. Yes, that’s totally the explanation in full.

AG: John.  
AG: Would you like me to put you to sleep?

_Say yes_ , you almost plead in your mind. _Say it_. He appears puzzled and asks for your motivations, so you give it to him without reservations, hoping that he would understand. _John, please just fucking say yes. Please prove me right._

Seconds pass as he considers. You wait.

His time is running out. Bec Noir is approaching from the South and would be upon him in an instant. He’d panic, try to fight the demon perhaps, but the effort will be futile and he might die screaming and flailing, cursing your name in his perception of betrayal. No. You don’t want that to happen. You trust him to not let that happen.

It feels an eternity before he answers.

EB: well...  
EB: i'm supposed to go to sleep to realize my destiny...  
EB: and you have the ability to make me do that, so...  
EB: i don't really see the harm in that.  
EB: it sounds like it is just the practical thing to do.

Your breath catches and you find yourself withholding the urge to yell “yeah!!!!!!!!” at the top of your lungs in a lab full of distrustful trolls. Your heart racing, you start to type as quickly as you could.

AG: Am I hearing a "yes," John?

Pause. A pause of one second as you celebrate.

EB: yes, that is my decision.  
EB: vriska, please put me to sleep!

You have won, but you think you actually kind of really respect him now.

Control comes instinctively to Vriska Serket, so it doesn’t surprise you when you see him drop unconscious as soon as he announces the decision. His head hits the stone with some ferocity and you stifle a grin. He won’t see the last line of your response until much later, but that’s okay. It’s probably better that way.

 _Hey, Terezi, I’m kind of getting really good at this_ , you want to say until you realize this has become far more than just a rivalry thing with your black crush. It’s you and John; it has been Vriska and John ever since the first pesterlog.

You believe you should commend him for that, so you throw him a cute emoticon as Jack draws his sword.

For five minutes, as he glows like the sun insignia on your godtier shirt, you make yourself enjoy the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost as long as the previous four added up together so I apologize for sloppiness. Doing the research for this chapter was fun though. The pesterlogs they have are priceless.
> 
> Oh and as a side note, I am totally in spades with AO3 formatting.


	6. And so I tell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events from [S] Wake to [S] Flip, including the 'second most heartfelt feelings-off in paradox space'.
> 
> Vriska, fall. Fall deep and willing, for once again, you have found love.
> 
> Suggested music: Ascension to Cosmo Canyon - Reuben Kee (remixer)

 

Sometimes, you want to forget.

Sometimes, you want to fight.

Sometimes, you want to love.

 

Skaia is a cruel dictator of fate, but it also has its own twisted sense of humor.

You are fortune’s child, and you know passion when you meet someone worth dying for.

 

_John (gotta 8eat Jack Noir)._

_John (and I will w8 for you, this side of the Scratch)._

_John (you will get 8ack to me, right? I don’t like to w8. Okay, I don’t like w8ing for a long time. A lot of things can happen in an hour, and I’d like to see your text again, just 8efore I go)._

_JOHN (8e here? Answer me? No? Please. I miss you already. I would even tell you that, if you would just come 8ack.)_

_John… (I’m trying really hard not to go 8ack in your timeline, you know. It’s getting harder 8y the minute, but I did make a promise.)_

_(…and I don’t 8r8k my promises to you. Not like that.)_

 

<\-------->

 

AG: I'll 8e w8ing. <3

 

You squint at the laptop to pick out the last sentence you ever said to Tavros, the many voices of your mind still reeling a little from the kill.

_He des8rved it 8nd you kn8w it_

_There was… a chance, once, 8ut he snuffed it out_

_That hour on Prospit… drip, drip, drip, drip. He did nothing while y8u went to h8ll and 8ack s8ppressing your scr8ams just so th8t you w8uldn’t tear his m8nd ap8rt with th8 r8w pain_

_8ut it hurts now, doesn’t it, to watch him fade away and disappear_

_It shouldn’t_

_Does dying hurt, Tavros? Did you think of how much dying hurt for me?_

_This shows that you are a huge failure._

_He’s the first troll to die for good_

_He has lived 8eyond his time; he should have died sweeps ago on Alternia_

_YOU WERE FLUSHED FOR HIM_

_NO I WASN’T, SHUT UP_

_THERE’S a point 8EYOND WHICH YOU JUST NEED TO STOP_

_You are not worthy of 8eing my descendant. A true troll of our 8lood would 8e decisive and ruthless. A true troll of our 8lood would pass all the tests, even the ones a8out the quadrants, 8ecause not doing so equ8s to death through incompetence._

_…_

_IS THERE ANYONE THAT I CAN TALK TO?_

_Is there even anyone in the la8 that would call you a friend?_

_…Wait, I know._

_No, you don’t. You have already ruined that one. You killed him, remem8er?_

_8ut that’s only if –_

_COME ON, HOW MANY OF YOUR PLANS HAVE TRULY SUCCEEDED?_

...Not that many.

Not as many as you would have liked.

You stare around moodily for a while before clicking on that one username. In the end, it comes back to the Ectobiologist.

If you’re going to be completely honest with yourself, he has been the only one for a while. If you haven’t seen Jade’s bullshit and felt compelled to spew out some obscenities into the air, you probably would have talked to him a lot more.

Losing him will hurt. You suppose it’s your curse to only realize after, for everything to click after you have lost them all. Terezi, Aradia, Tavros, Kanaya, John… The mistake always happens first, and by the time you want to whirl around and plead for them to come back (ok, you won’t really plead, but you do try, all the same), they are always far, far gone, leaving you alone in the cold.

Tavros Nitram.

John Egbert.

Vriska Serket.

Slap, steal, stab. Three simple verbs have stopped two hearts, Tavros’s literal one and your delusionary romantic one. Someone you once held great affections for is now dead, and a mental jungle of loneliness and death has manifested itself fully for the first time.

You can’t follow Mindfang’s lead anymore. You _can’t_. You don’t _want_ to. You’re confused, tired and lost, and you just want to remember who you are. You want the companionship of another living voice, but not a voice that will condemn you simply for breathing.

Being lonely and miserable is hard, and no one understands.

 

AG: Hi John.

What about this boy? Do you love _him_?

…No, you’re pretty sure it’s just respect.

But speaking of that… just how many people have you truly respected? Out of those, how many have been willing to listen to your story?

Do you even know your story?

Even if you know, is it a story worth listening to?

The questions. All those questions you have been actively running away from all your life, the gray areas you have been too scared to classify as anything other than black or white. They hover, and they weigh you down, for the first time suffocating you so much that you are gasping for breath.

You guess there’s no running away from them now. You will tell, to the air if not to him, and wait to be judged.

 

AG: John, are you mad at me?

He seems distracted, but you can’t really take ambiguity as an answer.

 

AG: John.  
AG: Are you suuuuuuuure you're not mad at me?

The answer is more vocal this time – and, to your relief, still favorable – but you have to know. You don’t want false hope, not now of all times. You remind him of the murder, and force yourself to say the words. You want this. This is not something you will allow to slip away.

 

AG: Would it help if I said I was sorry?

A break. You bite your lips. He types.

 

EB: why would you need to apologize though?  
EB: i mean, i admit i was pretty confused about it at first, seeing my dead body in the cloud and all...  
EB: but in the end, you did it to help me, didn't you?  
EB: really, i should probably be thanking you!

i should probably be thanking you

i should probably be thanking you

i should probably be thanking you

Fuck this.

You throw a malicious glance Skaiaward.

John Egbert better not turn out to be a sick, cruel joke, because if he is, the game has hell to pay.

 

AG: I don't know, John. You'd 8e surprised how often people resent it when you try to help them!  
AG: 8ut see, you really get it. That's why you're special.

…No. It’s not just respect. If it’s just respect, you shouldn’t feel obligated to read between the lines, wrecking your head to interpret every syllable just right. If it’s just respect, you shouldn’t be smiling as stupidly as you are now. If it’s just respect, you shouldn’t be chasing after the remnant smoke of his presence, wishing he’d stay longer on your radar.

You believe in the power of intense emotions and tumultuous actions, but he has the ability to fulfill you with words alone.

How much can you tell him about yourself? You don’t know, but you discern that you will try your best.

And so you do.

 

AG: 8ut really, that's not why I killed him. He was no match for me, and I could have just incapacit8ed him or flown away or whatever.  
AG: The truth is I killed him 8ecause at the time, I thought I wanted to, and sort of felt like I finally had to.

You’re gushing to him truths that you don’t think you’ve ever even admitted to yourself.

It’s okay. It’s okay; you trust him. You trust him to hold your hand and at least lead you out of the maze, because you’re investing all your luck in this boy and having as much luck as you do, you believe it should at least last you through all this.

 

AG: And when he tried to change, it was too little and too l8. Always l8. L8ey L8ey L88888888.  
AG: Too l8 to kiss me.  
AG: Too l8 to kill me.  
AG: He couldn't do it when I really needed him to. So when I saw he was actually serious a8out trying to kill me now of all times...  
AG: I just got SO AAAAAAAANGRY. I am still a 8it upset thinking a8out it.  
AG: So I killed him.  
AG: And I'm pretty sure he's dead for good now.

 

You still remember the last time Tavros smiled at you.

 

_No clouds graced the skies of the Land of Maps and Treasure, but a pale haze hung just over the horizon, its opacity barely managing to conceal the finest details of an intricate cartographical masterpiece. As you charged into the water to obtain the next treasure chest, the fluid shimmered, iridescent but still crystal clear._

_“i’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S THE LAST ONE,” he called from the shore. “tHE IMP HAS THE ONE FROM THE HILL.”_

_“Well, put them together to solve your puzzle, then!!!!!!!!” You yelled back._

_“i’M WORKING ON IT.” And he was. As the imps gathered around him, he set the pieces on the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration. “yES, I THINK I GET IT. cOME ON, WE JUST NEED YOUR PIECE.”_

_You turned back to him, a mischievous grin on your face. His expression soured._

_“Oh, come oooooooon. Just catching this shouldn’t be that difficult.” As he dived for the chest, you saw his lips curl up in what could only be a relieved smile._

 

But… that was so long ago.

“Once upon a time”, “the ship that never sailed”.

It’s funny how pain can dramatically erase the effects of oxytocin. Blue blood, flowing out and tainting the fine golden sun symbol, rapidly darkening the nature of affections.

You hope he understands. Before Sburb, John Egbert has never conversed with murderers, cheaters, thieves or aliens, but please, please let him have a heart big enough for a girl that is all of the above.

As much as you hate to say it, you need help.

You need help to protect the others, and to save yourself.

 

AG: I'm supposed to 8e just fine with it.  
AG: This was sort of like a test, and I'm afraid I might 8e failing.

Dying in green fire would do no good to anybody. Being stabbed by a superpowered dog is marginally less painful but far more humiliating.

You have to make sure that you can step up to the plate. Under the shadow of the universe you have created with your friends, you will have to find the courage to stare the demon down, and _roll_.

 

EB: so...  
EB: you killed other people, that you didn't care about?

Yes.

No.

It was normal. You had lived a typical blueblood life, but for some reason, to every troll survivor and seemingly all humans, you’re the most dangerous criminal in Alternian history.

John.

_John. It’s really, really nice to have you here. It’s nice to feel a living soul near8y again, and it’s gr8 8ecause you can withstand everything I throw at you… the fire, the metal, the lies, the truths,  the 8itterness and the tears. No matter what I say right now, I’m just trying to get you to stay_

_8ecause_

_You’ve done it and_

_Vriska Serket cares_

 

AG: Yes. Sort of a lot, actually. 8ut there was a really good reason for that!  
AG: I was always really o8sessed with 8eing the 8est at stuff, and I guess I was trying to 8e precocious in that respect as well, and prove to everyone how 8rutal I could be.  
AG: 8ut I was such a confused kid! I didn't know anything a8out what killing really means. I was trying to fake it, and it caused me nothing 8ut pro8lems.

Being a troll. Being a human. Maybe the Game did have parental instincts and _was_ trying to make everyone grow up properly, but nobody knew how everything really worked.

As a noise from somewhere deep inside the lab suddenly knocks away that train of thought, you find your eyes way too close to the screen.

Way too close to John Egbert’s godhooded head.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

 

EB: i bet you are still really strong.  
EB: but then, i'm not sure if i actually want to encourage you to go off fighting him...  
EB: because as strong as you probably are, it sounds like he is REALLY strong.  
EB: and even though you killed tons of people, i think i would still be pretty sad if you died.

FUUUUUUUUCK.

No, screw that. That was sweet, and you will take it as such.

Mindfang. Spidermom. Love. Regret. Fears. Strengths. Worries. Is there anything that you haven’t told him yet? A part of your heart you haven’t laid completely bare?

A part of your head is wondering _how the fuck did happen so quickly_ but that’s okay, you are shutting it down.

 _If he’s using you as a tool or just w8ing to laugh at you you’re so screwed_ it’s okay, you are turning that area off too.

  
EB: can this not be the last time we talk before you go?  
EB: it would be nice to hear from you at least once before you leave to fight him.

_._

_Yes._

_John, you have my word._

You decide, for the first time, that you would like to run into John Egbert’s arms and knock him over.

There’s something in his blue eyes that draws you in, and you are quite sure that you want to steal that light.

 

<\-------->

Water glistening on golden leaves in Autumn.

John, as a three-year-old, going to the Communal Resource Hiveblock with his Guardian, and making all kinds of noises while pasting jam all over his Guardian’s face.

Earth at night, quiet except for distant sounds of horns in the background. John running up the stairs excitedly, eager to be rid of his daily chores and to talk to his chums, all of whom readily prepares gifts for him every year and have never laid a finger on him.

John eating breakfast with his Guardian, yawning as he stuffs baked goods into his mouth.

That white, featureless excuse for a building called a library, and those books explaining the “zodiac”, from Aries and Taurus to Libra and Scorpio.

An eleven-year-old John dressed in a strange outfit of green and blue, watching Ghostbusters on his computer while mindlessly doing something he calls “homework”.

Someone from the street challenging a twelve-year-old John to jump down a seven-foot tall wall.

A prankster. Listener. Inventor. Friendleader.

Someone frank. Someone brave. Someone romantic. Someone who can keep it together, someone who has seen both war and peace. Someone _who is not exactly how he looks_.

You are laughing soundlessly and not without scorn because the scenes you are watching are rather ridiculous, but at the same time, you know that John Egbert is everything you have ever secretly dreamed for.

If Bec Noir thinks he can stop you from meeting this boy, he is wrong.

If the game thinks it can keep the children of two universes apart forever, it doesn’t understand the power and desire that burns in your blood.

Fuck fate, you have a quest to claim and an heir to woo.

This time, for acceptance and love, you will gamble your _all_.

 

<\-------->

Choosing the right time to troll John has always been a difficult business. On one hand, the two of you have agreed on linearity. On the other hand, you have thus far operated with a desire for control.

This time, you guess, you will go for responsibility. It will be, in a way, your method of making amends for not telling him about the death of his Guardian.

 

(You didn’t want him to associate you with any more deaths.)

 

AG: John!!!!!!!!  
AG: You're heading into the 8lackout, so I won't 8e a8le to see you until you leave.  
AG: 8ut don't worry, I can still sense you are there. 8ecause of awesome powers, remem8er?

You sure hope he’s going to pick up soon, though. Just sensing him isn’t quite the same.

One second. Two seconds. Ten. Twenty.

You fiddle with your fingers.

 

AG: I don't know for sure, 8ut I'm 8etting that if I go to fight Jack, it will wipe out all the 8ad things I've done.  
AG: I think if I die it'll 8e a hero's death, so it ought to stick.  
AG: Pretty good motiv8tion to win the fight though, don't you think?

You’ve died too many deaths for the process of dying itself to scare you. Loneliness, pain and the sense of being abandoned, though, are a different story.

The light from the platform calls. In time, your ancestral sword will sing as it bites deep into Bec Noir’s flesh, clearing for you the path to victory and the new beginning that lies beyond.

 

AG: It is very important to me that they stay in good hands, John. That you continue their legacy, and that of my ancestor.  
AG: 82THE8TH  
AG: Use the code! I'm sure I can count on you to make something awesome with it.

They are humming in your hands, vibrating for the oncoming fight, and idly you think you sometimes hate the way your power works. Your fortune will make sure that the Fluorite Octet hits the maximum possible, but it won’t make sure that you will find bliss for yourself.

Speaking of something else…

It’s probably fair that you won’t get John’s first kiss, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

 

AG: Don't worry, I still can't see you, so there is no reason to 8e 8ashful or anything.

In a way, you’re grateful for the blackout, since you don’t know _what you might do_ if you actually _could_ see the kiss.

 

AG: It's not l8ke I would 8e jealous even if I could see.  
AG: Why wo8ld I 8e?  
AG: Or may8e that didn't even cr8ss your mind........ haha.  
AG: M8n, why am I ev8n t8lking a8out th8s.

You just. You guess. Kind of want him to know.

Fuck, you’re blushing again.

 

AG: Let's just forget I said that. This isn't really how I wanted this convers8tion to go!  
AG: I guess I was assuming you'd 8e talking 8ack 8y now. So now I'm just talking and talking and spinning my wheel device like an idiot.  
AG: May8e I don't actually know how I wanted it to go.

John would have known. He makes everything so much easier, and around him you feel a lot safer with talking…

Wait, no, what. If he is actually talking back, you probably wouldn’t be able to say a thing. Nothing really… compromising, at least.

Trolls know that there are some confessions that you can only make to the dead. Although John will come back safe and sound, you guess the principle is the same.

Even if he’s here, though, you probably would eventually –

It’s just

You just really _want to know_

It won’t even, really make a difference. John Egbert has always been standing at the center of a catastrophe. All Vriska Serket is doing is sprinting inwards towards utter oblivion as he shatters everything in her world, smiling all this time.

But again

You are… _kind of afraid of rejection_

Several liters of blood and more liters of despair later you _know_ that

When things _really matter_ , though, you _will say it_. Honesty in the end will prove to be the clean incision, reaching into the heart of the matter with a clear and pure ring.

Yes or no. Getting together or backing off. Euphoria and ecstasy or misery and tears.

You want to say it, because _it can always be too late_. You will suck it up and _get it done and over with_ , because even after everything, you _don’t want to drown in regrets and what-ifs_.

The screen of your Trollian is locked on the blackout and you’re staring into it, into the darkness, straight at him and _come on I’m here and I’m telling you_

_I have to say it now, when I **can** , 8ecause, 8ecause I might **die**_

_I might 8e heading into death 8ecause of you and selfishly I guess I want you to **know that**_

_That I care enough to **do that** , and that you’re loved enough **for that**_

The blue blood, crashing against your veins, reminding you of just how long you have _left_

You want to do this. You have never wanted anything more than this.

 

AG: 8ut I think what's motiv8ting me to win this fight the most is........  
AG: The possi8ility of getting to meet you when it's all over!  
AG: May8e I can finally put all this terri8le stuff 8ehind me.  
AG: And I won't have to worry a8out 8eing the 8est anymore, or proving what a ruthless killer I can 8e.

You type, and your fingers are dancing and trembling _as if there’s no tomorrow_

For all you know, there _might not be one_

_John, I want to meet you._

_I want to love you, and then, 8eyond that, I want to see your world as it is._

 

AG: May8e I can try out whatever is supposed to 8e normal for a human. Who knows, it might not 8e as 8oring as it sounds!

_John, I want to **see** , and I want to **know**._

_8ut_

_I guess_

_The thing that really matters is_

_I want to **love**_

****

AG: May8e  
AG: If you're not too freaked out 8y all the 8ad things I've done........  
AG: Or the fact that I am an alien  
AG: We could go on a d8? ::::O

_I will make all the compromises, all of them, wh8ver it takes_

AG: Don't worry, it could 8e a human d8, whatever that entails.  
AG: No weird alien stuff, I promise! And no killing or murders, or even talking a8out killing or murders and such. Just whatever you like to talk a8out and think is cool.  
AG: I could even 8e persu8ed to watch more of your a8surd human films.  
AG: Do you like any others which feature that rugged human with the long hair and wounded arm?  
AG: You know the one. The sweaty guy with the mutil8ed animal and the speech impediment.  
AG: Those would 8e tolera8le to watch, I 8et.

_I_

_I don’t know_

_I just have to say it_

_If I would die, I would like to die knowing that_

_…Well, since you did, against all odds, care a8out me_

_I’d like you to know that I also care a8out you_

AG: Well, think it over.  
AG: 8efore I go, I'll get in touch one more time l8er on, when you're alive and may8e have something to say a8out it.

_And I will w8 for you._

_I will accept whichever answer, 8ecause I cannot force you to stay._

Terezi shifts her weight behind you, suddenly throwing you right back to the real world. A real world in which you’re dressed for battle, still far away from the platform, still mistrusted and despised, and far, far away from where John is.

You hate that world, so you will get away from it.

You will deal with this.

AG: Anyway, if you actually get around to reading any of this, thanks for listening, John.  
AG: If my outrageously gr8 luck has any say in the matter, we will 8e meeting up in no time!  
AG: Just please consider what I said.  
AG: Ok........  
AG: L8r! <33333333

You turn around to face her, John’s name still fresh in your mind. You need her out of the way, right now.

It just chills your bone to feel that, somehow, _your time is up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the quirks and the formatting are okay! I spent a long time going over them but feel free to point out any mistakes (shakes fist at AO3).
> 
> Writing this chapter has been a very emotional experience. I hope you enjoyed it.


	7. As I fade into oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vriska, dying.
> 
> "When I disappear, I'd like to have your name on my lips."
> 
> Dedicated to the awesome Skype John<3Vriska Group Chat. Please drop me an ask on tumblr if you're interested in joining it.
> 
> Suggested music: Hello - Evanescence

Four and a half sweeps later, you still remember that night clear as yesterday.

You had finished the campaign three hours before sunrise. The twin moons, not far from each other in the sky, shone high and bright, the rays mixing together to give the castle a beautiful but foreboding glow. As you flew back towards home, your two manipulated victims running closely behind, you noted the way their muscles were starting to give. Maybe the body knew its impending demise before the mind.

These two earned their deaths, though. They lost – and it was right that they did, for you had worked hard for it, done more arm-twisting and mind-controlling than you should have. As exhausted and anxious as you were, you were not going to deny Mom her dinner.

“Mom, I’m home.” Standing near the exit, you snapped your fingers precisely and down they went, helpless like slaughtered animals.A small pile of bodies, freshly presented. Probably not enough, but at least it was something.

Your custodian quickly snatched the two from the plank and secured them to her web. As you found a place to sit, happy to let your body rest, she waved a few appendages at you, a move that you perceived as a soundless praise since she hadn’t chosen to place herself in a menacing position.

“You are welcome, Mom.” _It means a lot to me._

For a while, there was silence. She didn’t seem hungry or irritated, and you weren’t in the mood to turn the psychic control off or walk up the stairs all alone.

So it was awkward.

But _wait_. This was _perfect_ – maybe this was one of those lusus-troll bonding moments your moony-eyed clouder had talked about. Maybe she was doing all this because she wanted to appear maternal. Maybe, just maybe, she was planning to offer you some help. Answer some questions, give some tips, that kind of thing.

The question that rose to your lips was not one that you were expecting. It was one that you had been very curious about and afraid to know the answer to, sure, but nothing you thought you would have dared to ask.

“Mom, what does dying feel like?”

 

– And then everything had happened so _fast_

One second you were sitting casually on the plank, your arms folded behind your back, and the next you felt yourself instinctively jumping backwards and slamming into a wall as she spun to face you, her fangs only inches away from your face.

Fear. Fear you had felt as blood drained from your face, making you painfully aware of the fast beats of your heart and the fact that you were still alive. Desperation came next, washing over with such intensity that you scrambled to gain some distance between predator and prey, curling into a ball at the furthest distance possible while gazing at her with pleading, teary eyes.

And then

As a familiar word you had heard on the fields many, many times nearly escaped your lips

It dawned on you that you were _all alone_

You couldn’t scream for help because no one was coming. No one cared, no one would even know how you died and no one would think the world was any different because you were missing –

She had pulled away. As you stared dazedly through blue tears and angry adrenaline, she retreated into her corner and started to feed. Numbly, you put your fingers on your neck. Pulse? Positive. Living? Positive.

You were not going to ask. You absconded the fuck out of there as quickly as you could.

 

<\-------->

 

You told yourself, then, that you would do anything to prolong your life 

 

Kill, betray, or abandon a friend in the rain

Nothing would be beyond you, for nothing was worth the pain of dying

 

There’s a specific kind of beauty in being able to rise with every sunset

The possibility of laughing with the currents in every snowstorm or hurricane

You scream Carpe Diem to the dark Alternian oceans because you can and

Because you have fucking fought, lied and bled for the lungs to yell it with

 

Love and getting beaten to death might have changed your view of dying

But it didn’t erase your belief that you would die for a purpose

 

You were sure that your death would not be one to be taken lightly

The event would be broadcasted all over Alternia, the entire Universe even

Every drop of your blood shrieking for attention as it falls, tainting the skies

 

But here are you now, and

This is the story of how you died

Again

 

<\-------->

 

The first time she breaks your heart, it is all valves and muscle, everything of the physical. The cane pierces through the walls of your pericardium and your teeth involuntarily click together because it _hurts_ , hurts as a stream of warmth starts spreading from your insides but it is all _wrong_ , taking awareness away instead of enhancing it as it runs the circuit with your blood, eventually converting your limbs into jelly.

The second time she breaks your heart, it is all disbelief and betrayal, everything of the psychological. The memories of being sisters and all-but-official-kismeses shatter behind the walls they’re locked within, and even as you try to grasp them as they fall like the last leaves of autumn, you know the efforts are futile. Nothing will ever be the same again, even if you were made of Time and can force everything into a new, better timeline.

The horror of it finally truly registers when you crash, way too easily, onto the concrete tiles. Blood readily and quickly runs over your tongue, making your world smell like rust and death, and between nausea and intense pain you don’t really know how to deal with a broken Vriska Serket. With the physical stimuli opening the floodgate, those cursed secret memories and nightmares from sweeps ago are hitting you like tsunami waves slamming into a mud fence and you feel like crying, although you are too numb and bled out to really do it.

Terezi hasn’t bothered to hold you up. No one will be holding you up. You let your guard down for all of two seconds, and you are being punished for it.

_No, no, this is not happening. It’s not, fuck, I for8id it to 8e. I’m n8t dying, I’m g8tting 8p… fuck. G8T 8P! G8T THE F8CK 8P!!!!!!!!_

Growing frantic, you start to concentrate all your remaining strength into the muscles of your arms and legs, hoping they would somehow serve you as support again. Nope, not working. Alarmingly – and probably more importantly – you are finding it more and more difficult to breathe. 

Fuck.

Giving in to pure desperation, you splash wildly – in fact, weakly and uselessly – in the pool of your own blood for several seconds before exhaustion forces you to give up. You lie with your face pressed to the cold floor, your eyes tingling, your body shaking.

_Vriska, stop this. This is ridiculous. It’s not like you will 8e dying for good. Just take everything in, 8reathe in, 8reathe out, w8 it out until you regain strength again and come 8ack 8etter than ever. If you can endure the pain – and you have proven that you could – it shouldn’t 8e any worse than just falling asleep._

“Yes,” you whisper. Did you even say it out loud? You doubt it. “8ut that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. It’s still dying…”

_Not a lot of people know this… 8ut dying triggers me to hell and 8ack._

Being reminded of godtier resurrection powers does help – you are no longer compelled to fight against the inevitable – but it _doesn’t_ help that you now remember the last time you died, what with all of Terezi’s worrying and everything. Tavros… well, Tavros will be Tavros and let you scream in agony until he has ran out of your blood, but back then at least you had Terezi. That time, your usually stoic sister had been visibly upset instead of ignoring your blackrom advances and just going straight for the kill.

She won’t let you go to fight Jack. After everything, she still won’t believe that you can take him down… and she believes in it so much that she will kill you for endangering nothing.

The lines of cerulean blood are getting blurry in front of your eyes. Feeling strangely hollow and uncertain, you try to reach out with one arm, but nothing happens. A minute or two should have passed already… your heart is failing, you can feel it, but just how many more seconds can you continue to call your own?

Terezi had aimed to kill, and to kill for good. She had wanted JUST1C3, but you’ll be damned if what she does is really justice. You didn’t even kill Nepeta, Equius and Gamzee, damn it, and when you chose to trust her now of all times – when it really matters and when you have so much at stake…

An intense, new wave of pain nearly knocks you out, but you struggle to finish that thought anyway.

You will come back. At least, you really hope you will, and luck should only work in your favor in this one. You won’t pay so much for something so… frivolous, and fuck, even if you die for good you’re not going to let it end this way!

You manage to move a finger by an inch. _Why the fuck did I let her trick me like that? Why the fuck did I make such an amateur mistake?_

So they want to deny you redemption, yeah? Deny you the chance to prove that you are _not_ the bitch, _not_ the burden, _not_ someone who will sit around and wait to die? Prove that you _are_ someone who can be a friend, and someone who can _love_?

… Love

That makes you shiver and then you’re choking and spluttering because you can’t breathe but you _have to,_ can’t just voluntarily give up on life right now

John. You’ll come back, and you’ll get the fuck out of here to get to the one fight that matters. You’ll fight for him, your future, his future, the future of everything and love and freedom and _fuck it’s getting fucking cold_

_It’s not like you can hear this 8ut I guess I can try to get this through_

_…I’m dying, John  
_

_I’m dying, John, and it really… hurts. I’m at a cold, lonely and forgotten place, and I miss you_

_John, promise me that you will remem8er me if I die for good? Promise that you will visit  
_

It’s getting worse and worse now. You’re gasping for breath at intervals, and thinking about John and how he will never get to respond to last pesterlog properly doesn’t help a single bit.

You bet it’s actually splitting your aorta open.

_Did I tell him that I was sorry? I will definitely do that if I come 8ack, I guess. I will 8e 8anking on that, 8ecause I can’t remem8er right now_

Wait…

Something your dying vision catches throws you off balance. It is the spidery shape of your laptop, just beyond your reach, just at the edge of your vision. Why did you forget? Why had you not seen or remembered it sooner?

_Fuck_

You make a wild last minute grab for it. Nope, arm dead, and your brain is now such that it can’t focus on complex thoughts for more than seconds at a time. Fuck. Okay, arm, _really_ try now…

_I have to get to John_

_Move_ , your command your arm, putting everything into it. _Move **forward**_. _Move. M8VE!!!!!!!!_

It has moved a little, you can feel it through the pain. Remember Tavros? Yeah, you can do this? You have to?

_M8VE TH8 FUCK 8N YOUR D8MNED ARM_

You don’t stop to think about how you would have the strength to type anything later. You need to get it. You need to get the laptop so that you can talk to him and you need to hear his voice and fuck brain fuck no **_John_**  

Half an inch

One inch

AND THEN THE STRENGTH DRAINS and in a fit of panic you are letting everything go to shout to your head

**_M8VE!!!!!!!!_ **

It doesn’t respond and you can’t even feel the pain and it’s probably

Dead

Again

And soon you will be too

_M…move…_

You can’t

You can’t, not anymore

Something has snapped and

It’s not the same

_John?_

_John, please  
_

_Tell_

_Me  
_

_Hear_

_Me_  

_Please_

_Say Something  
_

No response

_Please  
_

_JOHN_

_J8HN  
_

_John…_

_John  
_

_John_

 

And so your heart stopped

Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone in the Group Chat for making me have a LOT OF FEELINGS about this pair. Special thanks to colwag (everything plot related), Spin (the beta process) and Stripe (just doing so much everywhere and all the time).
> 
> I hope I used the right definition of the word "trigger"; if I didn't, please tell me so for I'm 100% ready to take it off.


	8. Death, Do Not Slow Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreambubbles, and what happens after.
> 
> "I am Vriska Serket, the Thief of Light, and Death will not slow me down"

_As we die, we are sent back through those frozen snapshots of life we call memories. Silent as our hearts are and as exhausted as we often find ourselves, we mostly watch them as they flash by, only desperately reaching for those moments we cherish the most. A face, a smile, a kiss, a stolen moment, a forbidden love, a sensation felt through all of paradox space… the moments that define us, tell us who we are and remind us of why we loved life as we lived – those are the moments that we take with us as we fall through life and death, the moments we hold dear to our souls as we drift towards the other world, eager to keep ourselves from shattering into a billion pieces._

_When the daughter of Prometheus fell through the cracks, she remembered the blue eyes of a young God on the other side of Elysium._

_She remembered wind as it blew her away, singing as it shimmered with the light of a new dawn, bright with the promise of tomorrow._

_She remembered something that was never meant to be, but something she still fought for with every fiber of her being._

_It was something that she would will into existence as long as her soul remained whole._

_  
_

<\--------> 

AG: If you don't 8elieve me, you are free to look out your window.

GT: what will that accomplish?

AG: It might help you remem8er. 

AG: And........

AG: You will 8e a8le to see me.

AG: If you want.

 

Snow. Thick, white, cold flakes of solid precipitation, swirling down from the pale Earth sky as it envelopes you, dampening your hair and weighing down your fragile wings. You hold your palms out to catch some crystals on your hands, watching them quietly as they melt and drain away.

It’s really nowhere as poetic as that.

You don’t know where you are. Not exactly, anyway; you know you’re in John’s hometown, somewhere on the North American continent of Earth. The trees, the uniform houses and the frozen lake – everything seems strangely divine out of their dim familiarity, the features they share with their parallels on Alternia striking a chord in your soul. Against your explorer’s impulses, you are glad that you recognize them – if you did not, you would be even more bewildered than you are now.

John’s house can’t be far away. That’s where you wanted to land, so it should be within a solid walkable radius.

_If only you knew where it was._

All the houses look the same. The same windows, the same doors, the same precisely cut lawns, the same whitewashed walls. You try to remember the unique features of John’s house – did it have a telescope? Something for the birds? A lot of flowers? – but your brain is still reacting a little slowly, too slowly.

You are tired beyond belief, and it’s cold again.

Taking the steps to get you where you are has been difficult; taking another would be pure torture. Although dying has not destroyed your soul, it has taken a toll on both your body and your mind, making you wary of striding across an additional several hundred feet of snow.

You can no longer see the blood on your shirt, but you can feel it hurt still. The shock, the betrayal, the pure physical pain of having one’s heart pierced through; the conclusion that you have lost and died even after everything; the realization that you haven’t had any time to sit down and properly rest since your ascension – everything just overwhelms you at once and you are sorely tempted to just lie down and sleep, sleep death away, sleep at least five minutes away.

But you take that step and pick up speed anyway.

You don’t know where you are running or even why you picked that specific direction, but you know you have to keep yourself going. No more breathing; no more pulse; only that determination in your being that you won’t keep John waiting, that you won’t admit defeat to this goddamned snowy planet, that your will won’t lose to a dead biological system on the edge of collapse –

That you will always attempt to do something right

That you will earn the right to shout out your passions on an empty planet even if nobody cares

_Death, do not slow me down_

_Come at me, for my name is Vriska Serket and **I will win**_

_I will w8 even if it means freezing into a statue for the rest of eternity, for **I 8elieve in him and me, the memories we share and what they mean**_

 

<\--------> 

The sight of him throws you off guard.

Pale skin, dark hair, square glasses, blue eyes, green logo, blue jacket, and sweet troll Jegus those adorable buckteeth. John Egbert walks towards you with a puzzled expression on his face and you stand rooted in the snow, happy that your numb toes are excusing your utter failure to act in the surprise round.

“So. It seems that you are, in fact, an alien. With horns and everything. Huh.”

His voice makes you smile. It is just so _perfect_ : mid-toned, a little nasal, and with the potential to bloom into something that can easily hold a crowd. Nevertheless, the words he has just uttered would have easily made blood rush to your face, if you still had any in your veins.

“Yes, John. Horns and all. That totally proves I am an alien 8eyond a shadow of a dou8t! Now what do you make of these 8lank white eyes of mine? What do you think THAT could mean, hmmmmmmmm?”

He looks you over, taking in the horns, the wings, the hoodie, the light insignia, the glasses and the blank eyes. The fact that you are no longer threatening him with blood and murder seems to have made him relax a little, but not much. He’s now bursting with some type of excited energy, energy that you sense you have stimulated in him by virtue of being an alien ghost but no energy really associated with you as a person.

You will admit that it makes your elation feel a little hollow.

“Also, normally I have this one goofy eye with seven pupils 8ecause I'm kind of a weirdo. 8ut I guess that's gone now that I'm dead. Not that you 8elieve me, 8ecause you just refuse to remem8er anything.”

_John, please remem8er what we had, what you told and what I said_

“I can accept that you are an alien, but come on. Meeting an alien who is also a GHOST in my front yard is a bit much to believe. It is almost too awesome.”

_God dammit no._

“So you don't remem8er anything a8out the game at all, then? The destruction of your planet? 8ringing your ancestor 8ack to life as a clown woman? Putting a huge flaming ocean out with your magical wind? Jack Noir? Dying, resurrecting, and possi8ly dying again? Is any of this tickling your sponge?” Your voice rises near the end, almost desperate, almost pleading, almost breaking the point above which you will throw your quirk around whimsically. But no. You try not to do that around him, and you’re still a little too tired.

“Hmm... nope. Sounds cool though.”

Fuck, you’ve forgotten how much of an asshole this guy can be. You would have loved it if not for the fact that he is not even doing it deliberately.

Fine, if he’s going to be an ass, you’re going to moan.

“Fuck, I cannot 8elieeeeeeeeve how cold it is on this planet. How can any species possi8ly 8e a8le to survive somewhere like this?”

_Fuck, it sure came out lot nicer than you intended it to be._

To make it worse, he doesn’t look annoyed. Resigned, maybe. A little victorious, even.

“Yeah, I thought you looked pretty cold out here. So I brought you this jacket.”

 

It’s your old one, grey, simple and rumpled in its full glory. As he holds it out to you, all you can do is to stare; his fingers are touching the fabric like it’s nothing personal but it makes two universes’ difference to you, evidence that you have closed the bridge between a billion light years and created a miracle.

You were not wrong in falling for him.

You are not going to regret it.

The only problem about this is that you might overheat and burn up, but it’s not like you’re going to die all over again.

 

<\--------> 

_Sometimes he walks as if he’s going to fall, the way he dances around when an interest is brought up. You think it would cost him a ridiculous amount of resources if he ever played FLARP, but at the same time he would probably land an equally ridiculous amount of critical hits just by virtue of how much he loved playing._

_Although you can tell his male Guardian loves him a lot, he_

_Looks_

_Down_

_While the subject is talked about, and you want to reach for him to tell him that you understand, to you it is worse but still the same._

_The way he looks at you but looks **through** you makes you want to scream, but after Tavros, dying twice and talking so much to him, you can now convince yourself to keep it in. You have to wait patiently, give him a chance and calm yourself down enough to be able to sympathize and understand; somehow one’s own tears and frustration are not enough, they are never enough..._

_Earth. It’s his home planet, where he came from, the planet that you created with your sweat, blood and tears. He grew up under a shining star identical to the symbol over your heart, and you’ve watched his life unfold, from the moment the meteor crashed to the minute his figure disappeared from your view._

_Does John not remembering you mean you have to start all over again?_

_It would be a nice date if he remembered you. It would. It’s so much easier this way, showing him the desert plains of Alternia and the monstrosity that has been your mother instead of relaying everything through that weak medium of communication called the written word. So much better to simply show him the infertility of the soil, the unforgiving rays of the Sun, the unbridled tempest that is the sea and the yearning last expressions of those dying to inability or a faint heart… let him walk the endless corridors of the castle and think about the horrors locked within. Let him see the full scope of your life and realize what it means to grow up Vriska Serket._

_Let him realize **that is who you are**._

_You love John for many, many different reasons. The way he can both brush off significant issues with ease and face them dead-on and win, the hand gestures he makes when he cannot find the right words to say, the innocence that peeks through when he makes barely comparable analogies, the expressions he pulls when you mention some of the less amazing things you’ve done… There is really no need for kisses. No need for sloppy makeouts, no need to prove anything, no need to be constantly on your toes. Who would have known that just talking with someone is already more than enough? Who would have known that relationships without quadrants, buckets and the Imperial Drone could still be so blissful?_

_Now, if he would just remember you._

_If his eyes would just light up when he sees you._

Memories can connect universes, John. I’m sure you know that, but can you use them to help me?

Can they remind you that I love you, and I wasn’t ashamed of it?

 

<\-------->

“So you remem8er literally nothing I told you a8out myself? Not even the, uh........ Compromising stuff?”

Does it matter?

Does it really matter?

He throws you a nervous look. “But who says we can't get to know each other again?”

You. Because… because of a variety of reasons. Because there are two Johns. Because they are both John, identical, but different. Because you care, but you don’t know what exactly you care more about.

Because you think Sburb is playing a game with you again, and you haven’t figured out your next move.

“May8e, you could tell me a8out how you died? What were the ‘things that just happened’ you were talking a8out?”

 

<\--------> 

It’s funny how that denizen chat got into your head.

EB: hey, vriska…

EB: are you okay? i don’t know what exactly happened, but you looked upset.

EB: i hope i didn’t say something culturally insensitive by accident.

EB: if i did, though, i will gladly apologize! you just need to tell me what it is.

What’s funnier is the fact that Beta John is now trying to comfort you about it, and you don’t know whether or not you should delete his messages.

You suppose you should have expected it to happen. That you’d wonder ceaselessly about the difference between the John you have and the John who is still alive, the things that distinguish the universe of the living from the universe of the dead. The fact that this John is not really the John you have fallen in love with, or your bitterness at how Alpha John hasn’t dropped by to visit.

Telling someone you’ve done something with him, it turns out, is not the same as having lived through those things with him.

Why is it different? Why do you care? You wanted John Egbert, so you got John Egbert. What’s so glorious about living when he’s the only one who gives a shit about you anyway?

You press three fingers to your temple as you close your eyes and rock back and forth in your chair.

You’ve also learned from a sullen but scheming Eridan that the dreambubbles are becoming more “permeable” and possibly rapidly disintegrating because someone out there is massacring the Horrorterrors. Big deal, it’s not like you can only protect them from the outside. It is true that this recent development might mean you can somehow get out and find a future with Alpha John again, but could you bring yourself to voluntarily leave any version of John?

If Alpha John does like you back and know that you’re dead, you should have found him by now…

Does this come back to your friends? To whether or not you care about saving them and being the hero? Whether or not you want to punish Terezi for her decision, whether or not you believe they can make it through without you?

Those should be easy questions to answer, but for some reason, they are not.

Sometimes, you suspect someone’s making the decisions hard for you on purpose.

>>Vriska: be the hero

>>Vriska: be the romantic

>>Vriska: decide whether or not the two choices are mutually exclusive

“I love both of them, don’t I?” you mutter to yourself as you violently take a swing at the magic eight balls. As predicted, they fall onto the floor, the shells breaking into a thousand pieces, each reflecting a part of your conflicted soul.

To leave your hive is the saner option, so you do.

You circle LOMAT twice before giving up and falling asleep in the rain somewhere in Earth North America.

 

<\--------> 

“Vriska?”

_You’re falling. Falling down what, you’re not exactly sure, but you’re climbing up and you’re yelling and you’re the only one on your team left alive and –_

“ _Vriska?_ ”

_Terezi and some other highblood troll are both closing in on you and the look on her face is insane. You avoid getting stabbed but escape just narrowly, you have to move quickly now –_

“ _Vriska, wake up!!!!!!!!”_

Your eyes flutter open.

They are directly staring into the eyes of Beta John.

_Fuck._

 

“I couldn’t leave you there,” he says, pouring some white liquid into a cup. “It was raining pretty hard.”

“I can’t get sick, John. I’m dead, remem8er?” You sit up on the bed that had previously belonged to Mr. Egbert, too moody and exhausted to say much else. “8ut thanks.”

“Vriska, are you still mad at me?”

That question makes you a little sick. “No, I’m not. I should actually apologize to you.”

“For what? You’ve already apologized to me about the whole trolling thing.” He sits himself down on the floor, his back facing you.

You close your eyes. “It’s complic8d.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I should have learned to give you more credit 8y now’. You’re thinking about the other me.”

The pain in your temple is flaring up again, so you don’t answer.

“If you want to be with him, I will totally understand! I mean, he’s still me, so I guess I should feel flattered.”

That manages to come across the pain. “Flattered?”

“Yep, flattered! That’s how the good guys feel, anyway, when girls confess to them.”

God dammit. “Dammit, John. I’m serious here. As much as I also love Nic Cage, I don’t think that is a good analogy.”

He snickers. “I didn’t _exactly_ mean that. I guess what I really want to say is… if you care a lot about the memories that Alternate Me had with you – and I think you do – then by all means, go for it. If I were Alternate Me, I would be really sad if you died just after confessing to me.”

“Wait, what????????” You throw off the covers and jump off the bed. Your legs hurt like hell, but you don’t care. You haven’t told him about this. “Wh8t did you j8st s8y?”

He grins mischievously. “Jade visited a while ago. I mean, the Jade who’s currently with Alternate Me, she visited. Apparently, Alternate Me doesn’t know about your death yet, but Jade doesn’t want to tell him.”

You sink onto the ground. With burning cheeks. “Wow…”

“So stop moping! Jade thinks Alternate Me cares, you know. Maybe you can make it out on time to hide it all from him? I promise I won’t tell him if he ever comes to visit.”

“You’re un8elievable, John. And I do mean 8oth of you.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“I h8 both of you sometimes.”

“I will take that as a compliment as well.”

 

<\--------> 

It feels like dawn. To say that time passes normally in the dreambubbles is ridiculous, but as you sit next to Beta John on a beach on LOMAT, the water is colored a beautiful shade of ruby red, a color that, on Alternia, it could only attain at sunrise.

“Your planet is really pretty,” John says, admiring the landscape. “Especially the sky.”

“It’s the 8est planet there is, yeah,” you reply, shifting your weight carefully to allow the wings to spread fully.

“Any reason why you didn’t decide to leave straight away?” He turns his face towards you, and you can’t help but smile.

“Oh, I have my reasons.”

_As your feet leave the ground, his features are drowning in the newborn beams of the dawn, the edges of his face glowing softly and godlike as the angle shifts_

“I want to thank you for a lot of things, you know. 8eing here. Liking me. Helping me. Making me want to 8e a different person.”

_He stares up at you wonderingly as you throw the stardust into the air, making a spin in the middle of it to allow your pixie trail to mix with the scintillating curtain_

“I… fell in love with the John Eg8ert in a 8lue hoodie, 8ut I’m sure I would have loved you, too.”

_You kiss him on the forehead as he stands on tiptoes, both of you under a magnificent shower of light_

“Score!” he whispers. “Make it good, Vriska.”

“I will!”

I am Vriska Serket, the Thief of Light

and _Death will not slow me down_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.
> 
> Just wow.
> 
> Since I'm incoherent at the moment, I will just voice here my thanks for Stripe, Joe, colwag and all the amazing members of the John<3Vriska group chat! Without you all, I certainly wouldn't have finished this piece.


End file.
